“I’ll send my secretary, Jerome Esterville, to help with the search. He won’t cost you anything; he’s on my payroll. And I’ll bet Homer Farley would volunteer to join the search party, hot as he is to find Simple Eddie. He could probably recruit other volunteers, maybe enough so you wouldn’t have to hire anyone.” He rubbed his palms together, smiling. “Yes, a volunteer search party sounds feasible. Shouldn’t take long to round one up.”
“Volunteers don’t always follow regulations,” Captain Wronson observed. “Things could get out of hand.”
“Instruct them that the women are to be brought in unharmed. I don’t care what they do to Simple Eddie.”
“Am I to tell them that?”
“If you’re too squeamish, I’ll tell ’em myself,” Hardwick said. “Let’s just get on with it.”
Abigail’s visit to Councilor Hardwick only increased her anxiety about Edwin. She returned to the school with Hardwick’s cruel words ringing in her ears. She could hear them as though the councilor were in the room speaking: “You’ve coddled and protected that boy against everyone’s advice, and now you’ll have to pay. He’s committed serious crimes. Not only will you not be able to protect him from these charges, but you share the responsibility. I don’t know whether I can convince the council not to punish you as well as Eddie. I don’t know that I want to, as often as I warned you this could happen.”
His laughter when she protested Edwin’s innocence would haunt her nightmares. She’d been unable to extract any concession from him, though she’d abased herself in an effort to win clemency for Edwin. “Forget him; he’s a dead issue,” Hardwick had said ominously. “Focus your efforts on protecting your school before it’s too late.”
His meaning became clearer when she got back to the school and confronted two sets of parents waiting at her office door.
Master Melliken stepped forward and cleared his throat. “We’ve come to withdraw our daughters,” he said, nodding to include the other couple in the announcement. “We’ve been advised to do so by Master Farley. He’s made some grave charges, and while I hope they aren’t true, I won’t risk my daughter, and—” he nodded toward the other couple “—the Brynnes here feel the same.”
Master Brynne glanced a bit uncomfortably at his wife but did not contradict Melliken.
Abigail fought to conceal her shock. Farley had warned her, but she hadn’t thought he’d really do it. Hardwick must have known that Farley intended to ruin her. “Homer Farley’s charges are not true,” she said. “I can’t believe you would give credence to unfounded rumor.”
“I have great respect for Master Farley,” Melliken replied. “I won’t put Charity at risk.”
“Charity is in absolutely no danger. I guarantee it,” Abigail snapped, losing patience.
“I refuse to debate the issue,” Melliken said with equal impatience. “Please call my daughter from class at once. We’re taking her home.”
“Send for my daughters, too, please.” As he spoke, Master Brynne glanced at his wife as if for confirmation. He seemed less belligerent than Master Melliken, perhaps less sure he was taking the right step. It might be possible to avoid losing the Brynnes’ three daughters.
“Master Brynne, you’ve always seemed a reasonable man,” Abigail said. “I can’t believe you would be willing to interrupt your daughters’ education with so little justification.”
Master Brynne looked again at his wife, a wispy, nervous woman.
“Maybe we are being a bit hasty, Robert,” she said.
Abigail pressed her advantage. “Why don’t you come into my office and discuss it further?”
Master Brynne nodded. “I see no harm in that.”
“Well, I don’t intend to wait,” Melliken said. “If you won’t send for Charity, I’ll go fetch her.”
Abigail didn’t want Melliken barging into Leah’s class, alarming her and her students. Neither did she want to leave Melliken with the Brynnes while she went for Charity; it was too likely that Melliken would use the time to influence Master and Mistress Brynne. Mistress Melliken was a quiet, sad-eyed woman who seemed content to remain in her husband’s shadow.
“I suggest you let Mistress Melliken go to the door of her classroom and call her out.” The mother would be less likely to cause alarm. “Miss Wesson’s classroom is the second door on your right just past the stairs.”
To Abigail’s relief, Melliken indicated by an imperious nod that his wife was to carry out that suggestion. Mistress Melliken scurried to do her husband’s bidding. Abigail invited the others into her office, and the Brynnes accepted the invitation, but Melliken waited at the office door for his wife’s return.
When the woman came back with her frightened daughter in tow, he grabbed Charity’s arm and marched her away without a backward glance. His wife trailed dispiritedly after them.
Sighing, Abigail turned to the Brynnes. “Your daughters are excellent students,” she told them with only a little exaggeration. “They are doing very well here. Have they had any bad experiences?”
“None that I know of,” Brynne admitted.
“Do you really think that one of the three would not have said something to you, had there been any questionable situation to report?”
“Children are not always aware of what constitutes unsuitable behavior,” Brynne said.
“Louella has told me that the janitor often stands at the classroom door and listens to the class recitations,” Mistress Brynne added.
Abigail spread her hands. “Edwin did not have the benefit of an education as a child,” she said. “He is eager to learn. He does not disrupt the class, nor does he neglect his work. He has learned to read and do sums by his listening. I’m proud of his accomplishments.”
“According to Homer Farley, the man physically attacked his girls,” Brynne said.
Abigail shook her head. “The story grows with every telling, and unfortunately poor Edwin is not here to defend himself. I cannot tell you what actually happened. I do know that the Farley girls teased the poor man unmercifully. I’ve reprimanded them for it many times. It is possible that, teased beyond all endurance, he retaliated in some way that frightened the girls. I saw them immediately after the alleged assault, and they were not hurt, nor were they badly frightened. The truth is, they said or did something to frighten Edwin into running away, and I’ve been unable to find him.”
“Isn’t his running away evidence of an unstable mind?” Mistress Brynne asked.
The question infuriated Abigail, but she dared not show the rage she felt. She had to remain calm and in control of the conversation if she hoped to prevail. “Edwin suffered severe abuse as a child,” she said. “He is not unstable, merely shy and easily frightened. But Edwin is not the true issue here. The issue is whether you should remove your daughters and deprive them of the education that is benefiting them so greatly with no more evidence than the word of two mischievous young girls.” She almost choked on the word “mischievous.” She wanted to say “spoiled young liars.”
“I suppose we are being a bit hasty,” Master Brynne conceded. “We could wait to see what happens over the next few days.” His questioning look at his wife drew an assenting nod.
Abigail suppressed a surge of relief. She’d won the first round, but the battle wasn’t over. She’d have to find Edwin before she could prove his innocence. And she’d have to devise a way to confront the Farley girls and make them retract their lies. She couldn’t let down her guard, but she’d been given breathing space.
The clock on the bookshelf by her desk told her it was past time for her to meet Leah’s class and give Leah her afternoon break. She ushered the Brynnes from her office with additional words of reassurance and hurried to Leah’s classroom.
“What’s going on?” Leah asked quietly as they exchanged places.
“Homer Farley’s stirring up trouble, as he promised he would,” Abigail said. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Leah’s answering look
, a mixture of fondness and concern, touched Abigail’s heart. She looked forward to sharing her troubles with Leah. The other three teachers, even Dorey, were employees more than friends. With them she always maintained the decorum proper in a headmistress-faculty relationship, but with Leah she could relax and exchange confidences. Leah was her one true friend.
When Leah’s break ended, Abigail went to relieve Dorey. She’d scarcely begun the etiquette lesson when Dorey returned. “You have a delegation of parents demanding to see you,” the older woman said, a frown adding deep furrows to an already wrinkled brow. “It looks like trouble.”
Dorey clearly hoped for an explanation and deserved one, but Abigail had no time to give it. With deep apprehension she headed for her office.
Master Brynne was back, with three other fathers. That they had come unaccompanied by their wives boded ill. With the taste of ashes filling her mouth, Abigail invited them into her office.
Master Brynne spoke first. “I didn’t have to wait long for the confirmation you asked me to wait for,” he said. “We’ve learned that your janitor, Simple Eddie, was arrested last night for theft, trespassing, and terrifying the populace. When the peacekeepers caught up with him, they found him peeping into a woman’s apartment window. Caught him red-handed, no question. They hustled him off to the guardhouse, but during the night he escaped along with the women wonder workers from North Woods. The Council Master has enlisted a volunteer posse to make a door-to-door search until they find him.”
Abigail attempted a vehement defense of Ed, but another father cut her short. “You’d better not be found out hiding or protecting him, madam, or it’ll go mighty rough on you, I have to tell you.”
“I’ve no idea where Edwin is, but I hope to be able to clear up this misunderstanding when he’s found.”
“This is no mere misunderstanding, madam,” a second father said. “There’s talk of hanging Eddie when they find him.”
“We’ve all come for our daughters, Miss Dormer,” the third father put in before Abigail could speak. “We want them out of a school that’s sheltered a dangerous criminal like that Ed.”
“We’ll be joining the search party ourselves, once we get our girls home and safely locked in,” Brynne said.
Abigail shrugged in defeat. “There’s a form I’ll need you to sign,” she said. “And I can’t refund the tuition.”
“We don’t have time to sign papers,” one said. “We’re getting our girls and getting out of here. We’ll argue about the tuition later.”
With that, they marched from the office, and before Abigail could stop them they jerked open classroom doors, found their daughters, and stormed from the school. Abigail could do nothing more than follow them from class to class soothing the alarmed students and their bewildered teachers.
After she’d done the best she could at calming her reduced flock, she returned to her office and locked the door behind her. Tears came without warning. She found a handkerchief in a desk drawer, wiped her eyes and blew her nose, only to cry harder as she thought of poor Edwin. Whatever he’d done had been twisted beyond all reason. How could she save him? She had no idea how to find him.
And how could she save herself? She’d worked hard to build the school’s reputation for excellence, dedicating her life to establishing an institution whose fame would live after her. All she’d accomplished was being torn away, destroyed by lies and rumors.
She felt so helpless, so alone. She almost envied those wives who’d stayed at home and let their husbands take the responsibility of claiming their daughters and ruining the school. The wives who’d stay safely behind locked doors while their husbands combed the town for Edwin as though he were a desperate criminal.
But, no, she didn’t really want to cower at home, evading responsibility. She’d handled things alone all her life; she could do so now.
She went to her file and pulled the folders of the students being withdrawn. Nine girls from the five families she’d just dealt with, plus the Farley sisters. A total of eleven. Tomorrow would probably bring more.
She shook out her handkerchief and mopped at her eyes again. Crying like this would solve nothing. She had to find a way to protect her school and to save Edwin.
A knock at the door made her heart lurch. Not another parent, not now.
“Abigail, it’s Leah.”
Her friend’s soft voice brought the promise of comfort. She rose and opened the door.
“I put the four girls I had left in with Dorey’s few. I think we should dismiss them early. They’re too upset to concentrate on lessons.”
Her throat too constricted to allow her to speak, Abigail nodded and pointed to the large bronze handbell on the corner of the desk. Leah grabbed it and stepped out into the corridor, where she swung it hard five times. Five loud gongs echoed down the hall, the signal for dismissal. She stepped back into the office and closed the door. The clatter of feet and the excited piping of childish voices brought new tears to Abigail’s eyes.
She could imagine how her swollen eyes and tear-streaked face must look. No need to exert effort to look older than her actual age of thirty-five; she felt she’d aged fifty years in the past few hours. The tears spilled down her cheeks.
Leah stepped forward and gathered her into a warm embrace. It was easy to give way and sob out all her troubles. She’d been keeping it to herself for so long. It took a strong measure of will to release herself from the enfolding arms.
“I won’t lose the school, Leah,” she said. “I won’t let them do this to me.”
“Of course you won’t,” Leah affirmed. “Only you should say, we won’t. I’m in this with you.”
Abigail leaned forward and gave her friend a grateful kiss on the cheek.
“You’ve been so good to me, Abbie. I can’t bear to see you hurt like this.”
“Dear Leah. How can I thank you?”
“I need no thanks, Abbie,” Leah said. “You give me so much kindness and warmth.”
“With your help, your youth and enthusiasm, I’ll find a way to get through this,” Abigail said, her confidence returning.
“I’ll stand by you no matter what happens,” Leah said. “I promise.”
Abigail met briefly with the other three teachers and explained what was happening. Their main concern was for their continued employment. Dorey Lividot and Urcelle Brexner were widows; Corinne Mayes was a spinster. Their teaching positions were their only means of support. Abigail added anxiety over their fates to her other worries.
She and Leah walked home. Leah forced her to eat a few bites of supper, and then urged her to bed. She’d had little sleep the night before. But sleep refused to come. The bedsprings creaked as she tossed and turned, thinking of all the day had brought.
Leah knocked lightly, pushed open the door, and came in with a glass of hot milk. “This will help you sleep. And so will this.” She kneaded Abigail’s shoulders and back while Abigail drank the milk.
But Abigail couldn’t relax. She had something to make right first. “Leah, I have to tell you something.”
Leah sat on the side of the bed.
“This isn’t easy,” Abigail said. She confessed her relationship to Edwin and the shame she felt at never having told him.
“Poor Abbie,” Leah said soothingly. “So that’s what’s had you so wrung out. Yes, you should have told him, but you can’t change what’s past; you can only make it up to him in the future. We will find him and get this all straightened out. You’re not alone anymore; we’re in this together. You don’t have to carry this burden or any other by yourself.”
“Thank you, Leah,” Abbie murmured, barely able to speak for the relief and gratitude that threatened to overwhelm her. “I’ve been so foolish. I never learned how to share.”
“You’ve shared yourself unstintingly with others,” Leah responded. “You’ve just never taken anything in return. It’s time that changed.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
CONVERSATIONS
>
Jerome whistled as he walked into his house. Things were working out even better than he’d planned. Hardwick’s decision to allow him to lead a search party played right into his hands. He’d offered to search the area around his own home on the grounds that he knew that area so well. Its residents would not object to opening their homes to searchers whom he led. He easily convinced the search party to skip his home, promising to search it himself to be sure no one had hidden in the unused rooms. Tomorrow when the search resumed, he’d assure his group that he had done as promised and turned up nothing. They’d have no reason to doubt him, since he had Hardwick’s full trust.
He tossed his hat onto the hat rack in the entrance hall and headed toward the dining room. The search had kept him much later than his normal time of return, and he was famished from tromping around the neighborhood and prowling through houses, barns, sheds, and yards. Dinner must be ready; the aromas of roast meat and spicy desserts greeted him before he entered the room. When he stepped through the doorway, his mother hurried to him. He could see his guests gathered around the table but not eating, apparently awaiting his arrival.
His mother kissed his cheek. “Praise the gods, you’ve come. We’ve been waiting for you, but the food was cooling, and we couldn’t have waited much longer. I did so hope you’d arrive in time. This is a celebration, and I wanted you a part of it.”
He returned her kiss. “What are we celebrating?”
“The blessings of Harin on our home,” she said, tucking his arm in hers and drawing him to the table. “Look!” She pointed to a large bouquet arranged in a valuable antique vase and placed in the center of the table, with small icons of Harin and of Liadra set on either side of the vase.
“Very pretty,” he said. Why was his mother pointing out the display? It was not unusual for her to put a bowl of flowers on the table, though the use of the special vase and the icons was not customary.
“The flowers,” she prompted, gazing at him expectantly.
They looked like common wildflowers, not cultivated garden blooms. “What about them?” He was tired of the game, and his mouth watered at the sight and smell of the generous array of food spread across the table.
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